Boredom.
Never in your life would you have imagined that, wherever it had been your three abductors brought you, this would be the emotion you felt once you arrived.
You were in a room that was very small and very dusty. A thin pile of tattered clothes had been generously layed out on the ground for you and served as your bed for the remainder of the horrofic last night.
Of course you couldn't remember exactly how you got here, you'd been knocked unconscious by a muscular man with a piece of ridiculous looking fabric over his face. When you woke up here at first, you had suffered through a variety of plausible yet sickening scenarios playing out in your head, none of which had ended good. You spent some time fretting over them, accepted them as a possible reality, and moved on. Self-therapy: Check.
Also, your head hurt like a bitch, but you did get clunked on it with a gun, so that was probably fine.
By now you had been sitting here in this corner for many hours, staring at the cracks in the opposite wall. The door was locked, of course, but some wishful thinking never hurt anyone, and so you had tried it anyway.
Bummer.
But then, suddenly and without warning, you heard a key scratching against metal as it was put into the lock, snapping you back to attention. It jingled and rattled, and then… nothing. No door was opened, nobody came in, everything was quiet. Hmm. "Curiosity killed the cat…" you mumbled as you got up and tiptoed to the exit of your new…. chamber. Home?
Let's hope not.
Your hand trembled as it landed on the doorknob you slowly began to turn. The door creaked open a bit, revealing an old-fashioned wooden hallway of what you assumed to be a log cabin somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Feeling validated in your adventurous spirit, you continued pulling. You were probably the dumbest shit on earth for doing that, but you were going to get yourself some action right now.
As you stepped out of your room, you noticed how it was located at the very end of the hallway. There were two more doors each on the walls left and right to you, and straight ahead the thin hall opened up to a wider living area. You walked toward it, wondering briefly what the fuck you were doing, but never stopping in your tracks. You had been kidnapped. Might as well check out where the eff to.
The picture that painted itself in front of you as you rounded the corner was so… upsettingly normal. You were standing in a living room. Their living room. A small TV sat at the wall opposite the couch, showing some kind of wildlife documentary and hypnotizing the boy in front of it. Toby was sprawled out on the cozy looking sofa with his arms resting lazily on the backrest and his feet stretched out on the coffee table. He had put down his hood but was facing away from you, so all you could see was his unkempt mane of brown hair. His partners in crime were nowhere to be found.
Your nervous presence must have laid heavily in the air because, rather unexpectedly, Toby turned away from his see eagles and acknowledged you instead. You felt your heart flutter with shock as you saw his now unguarded face. A gruesome scar spread across the left side of his mouth, revealing teeth. It didn't look to be fresh, but horribly painful nonetheless. The nasty gap took so much of his lip away, that you wondered how he was still able to eat or drink or speak, and low-key, how it had happened.
"You're awake."
It was a statement. A painfully obvious one at that. And one that didn't need to be graced with an answer. Not that he would have gotten one, anyway. You didn't even find your voice with normal people. Not in school, not on family gatherings, and most certainly not with batshit crazy psychopaths. Nuh-uh, this trap would stay closed.
Toby rolled his head back and tensed his shoulders until a, probably to him, very satisfying crack filled the room. To you, it sounded like nails on chalkboard.
Dishes clanged in the kitchen next door before the second member of this murderous troupe entered the room. Though undisguised as well, you could tell immediately by his large build which one of the remaining two villians he was.
He was easy to look at, with kind features and a well defined jawline, his dirty blond hair falling slightly into hazel eyes, now that it wasn't tugged away under the frowning mask. The yellow hoodie had been swapped with a shirt, showing off his biceps as the man walked calmly in your direction.
You were a bit taken aback. He looked so alright, you didn't even want to admit it. Horrible visages you had imagined underneath these masks, ready to make you faint in terror. Kinda like how it had happened with the scarred up boy occupying the couch. That one of them turned out to be so well groomed and a genuinely fine deal, really did clash with reality.
The only thing betraying the man's gentle demeanor was the gun in his hands. You frowned, taking a reflexive step back as the murderer came near. You knew what he was capable of.
His blank face revealed nothing when he glanced up from cleaning the weapon and met your eyes. Without stopping, he swiftly looked you over and then continued on his way to disappear into the hallway and in one of the rooms.
You released the breath you'd been holding. For a moment you had thought he'd shoot you dead, his poker face making it incredibly difficult to read his intentions. He could just as well had worn his mask.
Suuuper.
The front door flew open, startling both you and Toby into whipping around and finding a very irritated looking guy stomping into the house. There wasn't any blood on it anymore, but you would recognize this blasted tan colored jacket anywhere. When he noticed you, Masky's now unusually maskless face suddenly turned very smug.
Super-duper…!
"Well, well, well, would you look at that. The princess finally woke up," he jeered, the door falling shut behind him.
Masky had a more emotive face than his collected colleague. It was fierce, rougher around the edges and much easier to read. Like an open book, it told you of the things he'd seen, the hell he had been through, and that he wouldn't take bullshit from anyone, least of all you. His dark brown hair was parted to the side, resulting in some messy bangs that fell freely into his equally colored eyes. Two sideburns ran from his ears down his jaw, where they ended in a slight stubble. He was probably very proud of them, he seemed the type. You meant the sideburns, not the stubble. Though he probably was proud of them, too.
His posture was that of a man searching for trouble. He seemed exceptionally easy to agitate but at the same time, with how he got right up in your face all priggish and complacent, made the expression he wanted backlash. As if he couldn't imagine his time better spent than calling some juicy arguments into existence. He was a master at riling people up, and loved being provoked - A professional asshole.
Overall, he just looked incredibly tired to you.
"She just cuh-came out," Toby took it upon him to sum up the unexciting happenings of this so far very upsetting Monday morning.
"Yeah?" the other man replied, smirking, without taking his eyes off you, "Couldn't even wait five minutes before you had to sniff around, huh?"
You hadn't been 'sniffing around'. You had been carefully inspecting the place you might possibly die in and its residents. And you told him as much! ...In your head.
He chuckled lowly and bent down to your level, the stench of smoke infiltrating your nose at once, "Didn't think ya had it in you."
You stared straight back into his dark eyes, not daring to utter a word. A few uncomfortable seconds ticked by until he realized you wouldn't talk back; wouldn't take his bait. "What, cat got your tongue?" the man asked mockingly, though you could see a hint of disappointment glimmer through. Ha, got him! Also, that had been the second cat metaphor in a day, and that was way more than you could handle.
Heavy footsteps resonated behind you as….. Alright, you really needed to learn the big guy's name. You couldn't stumble around coming up with unnecessarily creative synonyms for large, terrifying murderers forever. It couldn't be anything too hard, you contemplated, as the so far quiet man stepped back into the room, the gun left behind somewhere.
So, the contentious fella next to you was named after a particularly notable fashion choice he made; after a mask. It was probably something equally ridiculous for his teammate. You mean, he had been wearing a red frown. Toby had a normal name, though the shallow simplicity with which Masky came to his title really left you wondering how he wasn't just nicknamed 'Goggles'.
You were about to write 'Frowney' off as a no bullshit kinda guy, who'd never allow himself to be called something so stupid, when Masky entangled the growing knot in your brain by finally addressing the man in question.
"Hey Hoodie, guess what!"
… Okay you were completely done with this. 'Hoodie'? Seriously? If you didn't know any better you'd say they were fucking with you. But the truth was, you didn't know them any better. So, there was that.
Well, Hoodie walked over to the armchair next to the couch and sat down before looking at Masky expectingly, arching an eyebrow.
"When you forcefully throw someone into a locked room with no food or water in a clearly hostile environment, you'd expect they'd know little girls ought not to wander around unsupervised, once given the chance," Masky said.
"But Sarah here," the man continued, putting a rough hand on your shoulder and you stilled. How did they know your name...? "thought it'd be such a great idea to throw all precautions to the wind and traipse right into our fucking territory."
Territory? Were you to live like that now? Like a dog?
"And thus," Masky continued still, all self-assured and important, "made me ten bucks richer." By the time he was finished, his hand hang dramatically in the air, stretched out to the man in front of him.
At that Hoodie sighed, reaching deep into his jeans pocket and pulling out a battered looking wallet. As he gave the money to his buddy, you were given the privelege to listen to his real, unchanged voice for the first time, "I'm never betting with you again."
It was as insignificant as it was underwhelming. A bet? They had been betting about what you would do: Stay obediently in your prison, or venture out into the lion's den. Back then, the answer had been clear to you. Now, you wondered why you had chosen the den. They were still playing their little game. Only, that game wasn't so little. It destroyed lives, people had been killed.
"You said that last time," Masky laughed, pocketing his win. Toby had been following the whole exchange from his spot on the couch attentively, head lying on his folded arms over the backrest. You kept an eye on him, but he didn't seem to be planning on causing any trouble, just quietly ticcing away and fading into the background, as the two more prominent figures on the stage stole the spotlight.
Hoodie chuckled softly and stood up, saying, "Well," then directed his next words at you, "you have questions." You nodded, half dazed and not fully there. The man you had glimpsed as both a composed person screwing around with his friend, and a cold-blooded killer, now towered over you, ready to finally give you answers. Masky moved to his side at once, and even Toby scrambled his way over the couch and joined his two companions in front of you.
There, they stood. Toby, Hoodie, and Masky. You eyed them, left to right, lingering just a second on each one. They stared blankly back. You wondered if you were ready for answers, if you could take them. To finally learn what happened that night you fell, and why you woke up here. To obtain valuable knowledge about the reason your friends were all dead, and why you weren't. It was scary, being so close to these answers. And yet, you owed it to the victims of these monsters, and above all, you owed it to yourself to unravel the truth. So, you took a deep breath, braced yourself for the upcoming words, and faced the men before you.
! ! !
With an alarmed cry, you jumped around. In the cabin's entrance stood a person, the door now hanging askew in its hinges after having been forcefully kicked open. It was an unnerving figure to look at: Disheveled, raven black hair reaching narrow shoulders in stark contrast to the brilliant white fabric of a hoodie, and falling freely into a face dipped in equally white makeup. Thin lips, painted in red, enclosing a mouth that didn't end where most mouths should, but travelled up higher and higher, along pale cheekbones, mimicking the grotesque joke of a smile. The stranger moved forward, a knife in hand, unblinking eyes on you.
And as he neared, you recognized the true horror embodied in this man, for what you had glimpsed just now in the doorway had been nothing but a harmless, mendacious half-truth, constructed in your head to better fathom this being before you. The blazing white color he was shrouded in was not makeup at all, but natural skin, and, as you came to realize, the haunting grin locked onto his face didn't originate from overusage of lipstick, but in fact scars. Not having eyelids, it was as if he stared incessantly into your very core and right down to your deepest, darkest desires. Similarly, you searched for something in his own eyes, but they were like cold, empty tunnels, no light or warmth seemed to reflect in them. As you gaped up at him, your body shook in awe and fear.
The actual Joker had arrived.
"So," he grunted, looking down at you, "that her?"
"Yes, it's her! Who else would it fucking be?" Masky snapped, exasperated, seeming very frustrated with the uninvited guest.
"And next time you come here, please refrain from kicking down the door. I'm tired of fixing it," Hoodie stepped up to say. Even though his voice was calm and the words polite, the looming threat in them hang palpably in the air. Toby shifted at your side, uncomfortably, and with another look at the door, you noticed many dents and cracks in the wood, as if from some kind of axe.
The scary young man ignored all hints about his provoking entrance and went on, "Truth be told, I didn't believe it when I first heard the news from L.J. 'cause, y'know… lunatic's fucking crazy. So, I just decided to visit."
Masky crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Yeah," he said dryly, "we noticed."
"But I see it's true," the other man continued, absorbed in his own monologue as if his associates were thin air. He began to move again, passing you and aiming directly for the wall that were your dumbfounded kidnappers, intending to walk right through them, rather than stepping around.
"Out of my way, Ticci," he said, shoving Toby roughly aside, sending him stumbling. The ruffian's journey led him across the room and into the kitchen. After some clattering around, he emerged again, the knife in his hand switched out with a coke. 'Maybe he left it in the cutlery tray,' you thought naively.
Then this ominous guy, whom you found to be a bigger prick than even Masky, strolled about the room like he owned the place. Stopping at the couch, he threw his head back and tried to chug his soda, but really just ended up spilling the liquid all over himself because of his scars. He wiped his mouth with the white sleeves of his hoodie and turned to you, "Tell me, kid. How does it feel to now be part of their belongings?"
"B-belongings?" It was the first word you had said to them under their roof. And it had been the terrified whisper of a question.
The white-skinned freak dropped the empty can and came closer - like, way too close for comfort. He did something resembling half a bow and met your eyes. "Jeff", he said elegantly, "the Killer."
Ohh boy, again with the names! These motherfuckers deserved an award in creativity. Jeff's ruined face was so close now, your noses were almost touching. He grinned wider, leaning in, his lips finding your ear. "What do you say, sweetcheeks," he purred, "aren't I beautiful?"
His hot breath on your skin made you shudder in revulsion as he pulled away, chuckling. You hadn't deemed it possible, but the scars around his mouth seemed to stretch even further at the sight of your frightened self. He found great joy in scaring the wits out of you.
"Ahem"
You both looked around. Masky still stood with his arms crossed, tapping his foot and quirking an eyebrow in addition. "Are you done?" he asked, clearly annoyed with having had to watch all of this. Jeff smiled, obviously, but he also smiled genuinely at his audience's reaction. "Oh my, where are my manners?" he quipped, slipping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you along, to stand directly in front of the other three men.
"Now, as I'm sure these losers have failed to do, I will have to properly introduce them and explain your situation to you. Unbelievable," the exuberant murderer declared. How you knew he murdered, too? Well, for one thing, it was in the name.
Jeff the Killer waved his arm in Masky's general direction, the other still locked tightly around you, holding you in place, "Here, we have Masky. A grumpy, miserable old man with a quick temper and a drug problem. Don't say anything to his boyfriend or he'll flip the fuck out. Just loves it when you call him Timmy."
Heh, Timmy scowled.
"Then there is," Jeff moved his arm a little bit to the left, "Hoodie, the quiet, well-read behemoth. Until he blows out your brains. Sadly, not with his fists because he simply isn't woke enough for that, but with your normal, everyday gun. Boooring!" a wheezy laugh escaped his lips, "And have you seen his fucking costume?! I mean, the frown is just -"
"That's enough, Jeff," Hoodie said firmly.
Jeff withdrew, but bent down to you and added in a whisper that everyone could hear, "He is the boyfriend," almost making you laugh, despite yourself. Hoodie merely rolled his eyes at that, while Masky seemed to shake with rage.
And finally, the last member of the crew had his turn, "Incalculably murderous, unsurpassable expertise in axe throwing, and mad as a hatter - All of that can be found in none other than Ticci-Toby!" Jeff wrapped up his 'introduction' like he were the director of some freakshow. 'Ticci'-Toby? Ouch. That was the worst one yet.
The offended boy stared daggers at Jeff, who had finally let go of you. Actually, all three of them seemed rather pissy now, the black haired wannabe Joker hadn't exactly flattered them. You swallowed, mouth feeling dry. The mood in this house had significantly sunk since Jeff smashed through that door, and you hoped you wouldn't be left to suffer for it.
"Jeff is right," said Hoodie, to everyone's surprise, "This is where you will stay. You will wait until further instructions, and you'll do what we say. You belong to us now."
They stepped closer, gathering around you and you felt the dread, you had tried so desperately to overcome, flood your brain once again. You belonged to them. Like a trophy, an object of interest to be played and showed off with, and then discarded. You would live around them, eat their food, drink their water, breath their air, but you wouldn't live with them. They'd push you around, only giving you as much as you'd need to survive, taking sick pleasure in your suffering. You would spend your days as a slave. Worse, you'd be -
Something cold and merciless cut through the stillness of the room, steering you away from your thoughts, and back to a dark reality. Eight prying eyes bored into you, as you recognized the cruel noise to be the beginnings of a mirthless chuckle.
"A fate surely worse than death," the boy with the ever-lasting smile laughed throatily, "A proxy's pet."
A proxy...
You stood there, silently. Everything felt suddenly distant, a kind of numbness settling in, as if the horrors of the present couldn't reach you anymore. It was an illusion, you knew, one you'd hold onto for as long as you could, as the pool of people around you stirred again.
Masky paced, walking restlessly up and down the room, hands in hair. Hoodie just watched for your reaction, analyzing. Again, his face betrayed not a thing, and again you didn't know what he was thinking. Toby tried to work that kink out of his neck, and with a crack, he was with you again, a curious expression adorning his features. Well, as curious as one could still pull it off, with a gash like that. Next to Jeff, he almost looked like he wanted to compete with him. You started to wonder if there was some kind of ritual for joining the Murder-Fanclub, involving cutting open your own mouth. Hoodie and Masky certainly lacked the mutilation, but two out of four were still two too much, in your book.
Then, out of the blue, strong hands grabbed your arm, pulling you along as if you weighed nothing. "I think it's time you left," you heard Hoodie say as Masky led you away, "You have overstayed your welcome."
"Oh come on, you snoozers just don't know how to have fun," Jeff's echo followed you into the hallway.
"And you don't know, when you've had enough," came the immediate reply, "Now leave."
Masky opened the door to the room you first woke up in, pushing you inside. You stumbled and fell to your knees. A bang and click confirmed he had locked you in. You sat there, breathing quietly, listening. Jeff's voice was so rough and thick with agitation, you could hear it through the door, "Fine! But tell your boyfriend I'll visit soon. This is something I wouldn't wanna miss."
"I'M NOT HIS BOYFRIEND!" Masky hollered through the whole house. Jeff would scarcely have heard it, having banged the broken front door shut with a raspy laugh as he left.